


A Case of Mistaken Identity

by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Time Travel, timestuck au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 17:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeidiMelone/pseuds/The%20Last%20Speecher
Summary: After using a time traveler's device to manipulate their future, Dipper and Mabel become trapped in a wintry Gravity Falls more than thirty years ago.  There (or rather, then) they find themselves face-to-face with their Grunkle Stan.  That's who it is, right?  Who else would it be?(Time Traveler's Pig AU)





	A Case of Mistaken Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _It comes back to you, it comes back to you_  
>  _All the things that you had lost will **find their way** to you_  
>  _It comes back to you, it comes back to you_  
>  _Looking back into the past and I can see it through_  
>  \- Imagine Dragons, “It Comes Back to You”

Voices carried through the snowstorm.

“What did you do?!” Dipper shouted, chasing after his twin sister.

“I don’t know! I- _oof_!” Mabel’s sneaker caught on a rock buried under the snow. She tripped, the time travel device flying from her hands. There was a hiss as the superheated tape measure melted the snow around it. 

“Mabel!” Dipper rushed to Mabel’s side. “Are- are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The snow’s pretty soft,” Mabel said, sitting up. “She looked around. “Where’d the time thingy go?”

“Over here.” Dipper got up and walked over to the tape measure, now sitting in a puddle of water. He picked it up. “Uh. It looks like it shrunk.”

“What?”

“The- you said it was getting hot, right? When it hit the snow, the temperature change must’ve messed with it.” Dipper attempted to pry it open. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t open it!”

“What?!” Mabel jumped up. Dipper trudged back to her through the snow. “That’s not good,” Mabel said in a low voice, looking at the tape measure, which was now about half the size it had been before.

“We’re stuck in the past! We- we don’t even know what year it is!” Dipper said, starting to panic. Mabel put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Bro-bro, chillax. We’ll figure it out. There’s gotta be somethin’ around Gravity Falls we can use to get back,” she said. She sighed. “Whatever ‘back’ we go to,” she mumbled, her hand dropping from Dipper’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, we’re fighting, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” They stared at each other for a moment.

“I…don’t really wanna fight anymore,” Dipper said. “We’ve got other things to worry about, for one thing.”

“Yup.” Mabel stuffed her hands in her skirt pockets. She looked around with interest. “At least we’re still at the shack.” Her eyes widened. “Maybe Grunkle Stan can help us out!”

“He might not be our grunkle yet,” Dipper reminded her. There were footsteps behind the twins. Mabel and Dipper froze. Someone cleared their throat.

“Would you mind telling me what you’re doing on my property?” a deep voice asked. Mabel and Dipper slowly turned around. They gaped. The man standing before them was late-twenties, in a black T-shirt, looking down at them with a suspicious air they recognized well.

“Look, uh, Gr- Mr. Pines-” Dipper started, wincing at the oddity of calling his grunkle “Mr.” 

“Dr. Pines,” Stan corrected. Dipper’s jaw dropped. 

“Really?” Mabel asked. “Like, _really_ really?” Stan furrowed his brow.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Stan said slowly. He eyed the twins with a discerning gaze. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Well, you’re clearly not the hooligans I usually chase away from my house, and you’re ill-prepared for this weather. Uh, come inside. I have a phone. You can call your parents, ask them to pick you up.”

“But-” Mabel started. Stan was already walking back to the shack. When he reached the door, he looked back at Dipper and Mabel, standing in the snow.

“Come along, children,” Stan said shortly. He walked inside. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look, but followed him. Just before they went in, Mabel grabbed Dipper’s shoulder.

“What is going on?” she hissed. 

“I don’t know. I mean, that’s Grunkle Stan, but he doesn’t seem like it.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot of new information, and I’m not sure what to do with it,” Mabel said with a firm nod.

“…What kind of information?”

“Dipper, our grunkle used to be a H-O-T-T-I-E,” Mabel spelled out, crisply enunciating each letter. “What happened to him?!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Stan said gruffly, coming back outside and physically bringing the twins in. “I can’t allow two children to freeze to death on my doorstep,” Stan muttered. He glanced at Dipper and Mabel. “What are your names, by the way?”

“I’m Mabel, and this is my twin brother, Dipper!” Mabel said cheerfully. 

“Twins…” Stan said softly. A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Ah. I see.”

“Did ya figure out what made the noise, Stanford?” a voice called from the living room. 

“Yes. Two children were outside. I’ve invited them in to warm up and call their parents.” Stan nudged Dipper and Mabel forward. They walked into the living room, where another young man was sitting at the table Stan used for poker, poring over blueprints. The man looked up. He beamed at Dipper and Mabel.

“Howdy there, kidlets.”

“Uh, howdy?” Dipper said hesitantly.

“This is my research partner, Fiddleford McGucket,” Stan said. Mabel caught Dipper’s eye.

_“McGucket?”_ she mouthed silently. Dipper shrugged. He had difficulty matching this kind-looking, clean person with the hillbilly called Old Man McGucket. 

“As Fiddleford said,” Stan continued, not noticing Dipper and Mabel’s confusion, “my name is Stanford. Dr. Stanford Pines.”

“Still a Dr.?” Dipper queried. Stan frowned at him.

“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”

“Uh…”

“We weren’t expecting that, is all,” Mabel interjected. A cloud crossed Stan’s face.

“Hmph.”

“How’s ‘bout I get ya some hot chocolate while ya call yer folks?” Fiddleford suggested, already getting up from the table. “You two cuties look darn near frozen.”

“Thank you,” Dipper and Mabel said politely. Fiddleford walked into the kitchen. Stan took a seat at the table and nodded at the other chairs.

“Sit,” Stan instructed. Dipper and Mabel sat. Stan sighed. “I knew Stan would try to contact me, I just didn’t expect him to use his children to soften me, so to speak. Make me more likely to forgive him.”

“Wh- but you’re Stan,” Dipper said. 

“No, I am not.”

“You’re Stanford Pines,” Mabel insisted. Stan nodded.

“I am. But I am not Stan. I have never gone by that in my life. I never plan to, either. That’s Stanley’s nickname of choice. I go by my full name, Stanford. Or I utilize Ford as my nickname.” Dipper and Mabel stared at him silently. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m rather excited to have a new niece and nephew. But the circumstances make this meeting rather…uncomfortable, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Mabel managed.

“You’re clearly Pines children, and twins to boot. But you’re the wrong age to be Shermie’s children, therefore you are Stan’s son and daughter.” Ford looked at them expectantly. “Given I’ve just revealed I know who you are, you can drop the act,” he prompted. 

“You’re not Stan?” Dipper asked, still catching up. 

“No. I am not.” Ford leaned forward with a perplexed frown. “Are you looking for him?”

“…Yes,” Mabel said after a moment. Dipper kicked her under the table. She kicked him back. 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. I haven’t heard from Stan in years.” Ford paused. “I do hope that he’s not using my name as a pseudonym. You two confusing our names makes that a possibility.”

“Heh, I, uh, I dunno,” Dipper stammered with a shrug.

“Mom might be able to help,” Ford muttered softly. He looked away, clearly deep in thought.

“What is going on?!” Dipper hissed at Mabel.

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the one that said we’re looking for Stan.”

“He’s the only person in this time that we know.”

“But he doesn’t know us!”

“We can fix that,” Mabel said, waving a hand. She glanced at Ford. “But why is this guy saying that Grunkle Stan is Stanley?”

“…I have no clue,” Dipper said softly. 

“Hot cocoa!” Fiddleford chirped brightly, walking into the living room again, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. “I can show the two of ya to the phone, and you can call yer parents.”

“No need,” Ford said. “It turns out that they are relatives of mine.” Fiddleford raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“They’ll be staying here for a while,” Ford continued. Dipper and Mabel looked at each other fearfully. 

_“Since when are we doing that?”_ Mabel mouthed at Dipper.

_“I don’t know!”_ Dipper mouthed back.

“I didn’t even know ya had any fam’ly at all, Stanford,” Fiddleford teased. “Thought ya were raised by very logical wolves of some sort. Superwolves.”

“Always with the wit,” Ford said drily, reaching out to take one of the mugs of hot chocolate Fiddleford was carrying. Fiddleford playfully slapped his wrist.

“These are fer the children,” Fiddleford said. He set the mugs on the table in front of Mabel and Dipper. Ford hid a small grin.

“If you insist.” He looked at Dipper and Mabel, who were wearing identical shell-shocked expressions. “What’s wrong?”

“No- nothing!” Mabel squeaked. Something in the kitchen made a noise.

“Shoot, I forgot to unplug that dang toaster,” Fiddleford said, running back. Ford cleared his throat and stood up. 

“I’ll make some calls, see if I can track down Stan. I assume you haven’t met him?”

“We have not met Stanley Pines,” Dipper said carefully. Ford sighed.

“Just like Stan, to knock up some poor girl and leave her alone. Don’t worry, you’ll get a chance to meet your father. I’ll find him.” Ford walked away. 

“So I guess we’re Grunkle Stan’s kids now,” Mabel said quietly. Her face was pale. She rubbed the table with one of her fingers. “Dipper, did you see?”

“Yeah,” Dipper croaked. He put his head in his hands.

“Whoever this – admittedly hot – guy is, he’s not Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said. She swallowed. “He’s got twelve fingers. So that means he’s-” She looked at Dipper for verification. He nodded and finished her sentence.

“The Author.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired to write this by a series of posts on Tumblr. It got a lot of attention there, and I decided to post it on here. This will be a multi-chapter fic.  
> As always, if you have any questions or comments, leave them below or message me at thelastspeecher.tumblr.com.


End file.
